


To fly without a plane

by melonbutterfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every now and then, John needs a little excitement in his life; having sex with a guy he just met in a club gives him exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To fly without a plane

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Charles Lindbergh quote: "It is the greatest shot of adrenaline to be doing what you have wanted to do so badly. You almost feel like you could fly without the plane."

When John finally makes it home from work, he has spent three days at the hospital, slept maybe five hours altogether during that shift, and he feels the exhaustion in his bones. He's completely convinced he'll sleep for a whole day, only taking breaks to use the toilet or eat something – but he's wrong. After seven hours of sleep, he wakes up to the sinking sun, still feeling vaguely exhausted, but also strangely wired. Knowing he won't manage any more sleep now, he gets up and takes a shower while baking a frozen pizza in the oven; after that, he races some cars with his play station, but that only wires him up more. He considers going to the gym, but there is another option that comes to his mind suddenly. Both will probably tire him out enough to let him sleep afterwards; in that aspect, they're the same. He considers them for a moment, but in the end, he decides it's time for the club again.

It doesn't take long until he's ready; he puts on his club-jeans – tight ones that, he's been told, show off his sort of nonexistent ass – and a semi-tight black t-shirt. Nothing too fancy, but it shows off his attributes. He doesn't do anything with his hair; occasionally he puts some wax in it to make the cowlicks look more purposeful, but today he doesn't really feel like it. Grabbing his keys and his wallet, he slides on his black leather jacket and rides his motorcycle to the club.

He doesn't do this often; go out with the intent to have sex. He doesn't go out often, period, but most of the time he goes into the club, he just wants to dance, maybe flirt a little. Occasionally, though, he needs something else, something a little more dangerous, a little more naughty – something else than his relatively normal, nice life as a pediatrician at the hospital. And once or twice a year, he takes a week and gets even more action; he goes surfing or bungee jumping or cave diving. Sometimes he just needs the adrenaline, and the excitement of anonymous sex is enough to tide him over for a while.

When he gets to the club, it's high time; he's momentarily confused until he realizes that it's Friday. Of course he'd pick the most busy day of the week for this. But that's alright; a higher crowd means more people to choose from, and that makes up for the fact that the kind of guy John usually looks for is harder to find the bigger the crowd is.

Once he's inside, he first goes to the bar to drink a beer and look around; the club is full, mostly of the modern, younger, hipster kind of guys who are too excited and some of whom will want to call him daddy, while others just want to take someone ten years older to bed. Really not what he's looking for; he wants a man.

Sighing, he empties his glass and heads for the dance floor; while he can't identify much with modern music, it's great to dance to, to just let go. It's all generic and sounds the same anyway.

A couple of guys dance with him, not all of them considerably younger than him, but they're all too slick, too smooth, too pretty; for some reason, that's the kind of guy he usually attracts, the really pretty ones. He doesn't quite get why, and it's annoying because it's really not the kind of guy he wants to attract. He likes them solid, real, normal; not these slick underwear model types that are worried about bruises and give too-perfect blowjobs. And he prefers them around his age, thank you very much.

After about two hours of dancing and drifting back to the bar to drink something – usually water because he knows better than to get drunk when he's just gotten off a power shift – and deflecting the more insistent guys, he's just about to give up when he sees him. A guy just like the kind he's looking for, standing at a table and gesticulating wildly as he makes some kind of point to an uncomfortable looking guy in his mid-twenties. He's tall, but not toweringly so; his shoulders are broad and his arms look strong, with big, expressive hands. Around his hips he's carrying some weight, but John likes that, and he especially likes how expressive the guy seems even from afar. Some could mistake that animation with anger, but it's not; he's just very invested in whatever he's talking about, and John finds he really wants to know what that is. Even more than that, though, he wants to know how that enthusiasm translates into the bedroom; the mere thought sends a thrill down his spine. Decision made, he goes and orders two beers, which he carries over to the guys' table.

"May I cut in?", he asks, and both the guy and the person he is speaking to turn to look at him. The guy John has set his eyes on presses his lips together while the other seems relieved; he nods eagerly, but before he can open his mouth – John can tell he thinks he's the one John is interested in – John turns away from him to the other one, smiles pleasantly and says "Hi, I'm John."

The guy seems confused for a moment, looking back and forth between John and the guy one he's been talking to, until the other one huffs, takes his drink and leaves without a word.

"Well," the guy says hesitantly, still seeming a little thrown. "Hello?"

"What's your name?", John encourages and pushes the beer over to him.

"Rodney," the guy says. "What-?" He pauses and frowns, but apparently decides the question is valid and asks, "What do you want?"

John licks his lips, lowers his gaze and then looks up again. Normally, he'd shrug and say something of the generic kind like "just chat a little", but he has little patience left after spending the past couple of hours evading twinks. If Rodney isn't interested, he'll just go home, jerk off in the shower and try to sleep some more.

"Sex," he thus says and watches as Rodney's eyes widen; a deep blush then spreads on his cheeks and he squeaks "With me?"

Raising one eyebrow, John grins and says "No, that other guy I just bought a drink and am talking to right now."

Rodney huffs and rolls his eyes. "So bringing me that swill you Americans call beer counts as buying me a drink? In that case, let's skip that step and go directly to a hotel."

John grins, and grins more when Rodney's eyes widen in disbelief before they narrow and he tilts up his chin to say a challenging, "Well?"

It's obvious he doesn't think John is serious. John is half of a mind to drag him off and show him just how serious he is, but that smells of coercion – Rodney can hardly say no once they're in a hotel room, not without embarrassing himself, and while he doesn't look like the kind of guy who would have a problem with that, there's something about him that makes John hesitate. Swallowing, John lets the easy grin slip off his face and looks down Rodney's body, taking in everything that attracted him in the first place; those strong shoulders and biceps, the big hands, solid upper body with softness around the middle and the sturdy legs. He looks like the kind of guy John can let go with, can lose himself in, and he doesn't just want it, he _needs_ it.

When his gaze settles back on Rodney's face, the man's expression has changed from challenging defensiveness to something else – John doesn't know what, but when John licks his lips, Rodney swallows, and before he even realizes what he's doing, John is leaning in. Cupping Rodney's cheek, he brings their lips together; they tilt their heads to adjust the angle, and from one moment to the next the kiss turns from experimental to hot.

And, god, the guy can _kiss_. Without reservations, Rodney thrusts his tongue into John's mouth, his big hands settling surely on John's waist, pulling him closer as he proceeds to kiss John breathless. Before he knows what's happening, John feels his knees weaken, and he wraps one arm around Rodney's shoulder, holding on. By the time they pull apart, his own erection is bulging his jeans while Rodney's is pressing into his thigh, and all the humor has left John.

"I want you," he pants, staring into Rodney's eyes, and Rodney nods quickly, looking about as decomposed as John feels. Without another word, the two of them step apart and hurry out of the club, John taking Rodney's hand to lead him and only stopping at the checkroom to pick up his jacket and helmet.

Once outside, John squeezes Rodney's hand and explains, "I'm here with my motorcycle, you?"

"Car," Rodney replies and insistently pulls John towards a – okay, yes, it's a bright green Beetle, albeit a modern one. John swallows all of the quips that come to his mind instantly and wordlessly gets in; Rodney doesn't seem to consider anything remiss with his choice of vehicle and just starts driving.

He doesn't drive to the nearest hotel, like John expected; it's just three blocks away from the club, so when they drive by without Rodney even slowing down, John makes a questioning noise. Rodney glances at him in puzzlement. "Oh, that? No, I have a room in a place better than that dump. I'm here on a job interview," he answers the question John didn't voice.

"Ah. I live here," John divulges, unwilling to give away any other information; his job can put a damper on things, for some reason. Just because he works with children doesn't mean he only likes vanilla sex; the two are completely unrelated, and it freaks him out sometimes how it freaks some people out that he works with children and still has semi-anonymous sex.

Rodney drives into a hotel's garage, and then they take the elevator directly up to Rodney's floor, where Rodney leads him into his room. It's a little messy; a suit with shirt, tie and dress shoes has been thrown about carelessly, as if Rodney had come back from his interview and immediately thrown off his clothes. The bed has been made but it looks like Rodney since sat on it – not that John cares much; all he really pays attention to is that it's a double. The moment the door closes behind them, John turns around and crowds Rodney, pressing his body and mouth to his.

Rodney's hands immediately settle back on John's waist, and John decides he likes them there; they're big and he feels captured. Not trapped, though; Rodney's grip isn't tight and John knows he could twist out of it if he wanted to.

He doesn't, though. Rodney is doing his best to kiss him breathless again, and the erection that waned during the car ride comes back with full force. John's heart is beating loud in his chest and, in an attempt to get even closer to Rodney, he pulls one leg up, wrapping it around Rodney's thigh, rubbing the bulge in his pants against said thigh. It feels so good he moans, and moans again when one of Rodney's hands slides down to his ass to encourage him to rub against Rodney.

John doesn't do it for long, just enough to get really worked up; he doesn't want this to end too soon though, doesn't want to come in his pants. No, he wants to get fucked – wants those hands of Rodney's to spread him open and hold him down while he gets the steady in-out of sex with a stranger. Not too rough, like the kind of guy John never has sex with, but not too tentative either, like the young twenty-somethings that seem to find him so enthralling.

So eventually, John pulls away and demands, after taking a couple of breaths to even manage that much, "Clothes off, now."

With an amused huff Rodney lets go of John, but not without pressing their lips together one more time, and then they step apart and start pulling off their clothes. John doesn't let his eyes off Rodney, taking in every inch of skin Rodney reveals, and finds he's getting the same attention. He glances at Rodney's face to gauge whether Rodney likes what he sees, and from the way Rodney stares fixedly at him, he finds that is the case. It's something John doesn't take for granted; he knows his face looks okay enough and his body too when he's wearing clothes, but underneath he's too skinny and too hairy and has chicken legs. When he was younger he tried eating a lot and working out to gain at least some muscles and fat, but it never worked, and he finally gave up. He's glad at the obvious desire he sees displayed openly on Rodney's face.

In John's opinion, Rodney is a lot sexier than John; his chest is only slightly furred, and he has the perkiest pink nipples. He's soft in all the right places without looking squishy; it makes a heady shiver run down John's back, imagining himself pressed against that strong body. As soon as they're both completely naked, John plasters himself to Rodney again, rubbing their naked bodies together. Rodney moans happily and fuses their lips together once more, and John melts into him, wrapping his arms around Rodney's shoulders. He lets Rodney navigate them backwards to the bed and sinks down on it, scooting backwards to the middle of it while Rodney crawls after him.

They go back to kissing, John lying back and pulling Rodney over him, wrapping one leg around his hips again; he angles his hips so he can rub their hard dicks together and thrusts up, swallowing Rodney's moans. One of Rodney's hands is in John's hair, and the other is sliding down John's side over his ass and then up the thigh John has wrapped around his waist, hooking around it and pulling it higher. John pulls it up and then follows with his other leg, wrapping them both tightly around Rodney's hips and moaning.

Rodney's hand slides up John's body again, sliding through his thick chest hair until he finds a nipple, which he teases to hardness. The noises John makes are muffled by his mouth until Rodney pulls away and, wrapping his arms tightly around John's chest, sits up, pulling John immediately into his lap. John adjusts their position so he's pressed tight against him again, wraps his arms around Rodney's neck and kisses him again before pulling away, just enough so he can speak. "Do you have anything?"

That makes Rodney pause, his hands stilling on John's ass. "Er," he says.

John leans back a little, raising one eyebrow. "Lube?", he asks hopefully; he does have a condom, but he couldn't exactly store a tube of lube in his jeans pocket.

Rodney's face brightens. "Yes!"

"Good, I've got the condom," John replies, satisfied. He's not as happy that he has to let go of Rodney and get off the bed, but it's necessary to get on with things. They both quickly scramble off the bed, John heading to where he carelessly dropped his jeans on the floor, Rodney crossing the room to get the lube out of the bathroom. John gets back to the bed quicker; he leans back into the pillows and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth. In the bathroom, he hears cursing; it seems Rodney has problems finding the lube. While waiting for him, John swirls his tongue around his fingers and then puts them down to his ass. Pulling one leg up, John guides his fingers to his hole and pushes one finger inside, starting to stretch his muscles.

Rodney chooses that moment to find the lube; he makes a wordless noise of triumph and comes back into the room. His eyes search for John and when he finds him on the bed, one leg pulled up and a finger in his ass, he freezes for a moment before cursing roughly and striding across the room. "You're so hot," he says hoarsely, and John, to his horror, feels himself flush.

"C'mere," is all he can reply, reaching out with his free hand. Rodney catches his fingers and leans down to kiss John again, cupping his face again in that way John already learned he likes to do. John groans when Rodney plasters himself to his body and nearly goes insane when wet fingers are suddenly wrapped around his cock; he moans loudly and pushes up into the sensation. It quickly robs him of any patience he might have had left, and he searches for the wrapped condom he dropped on the bed and puts it into Rodney's hand.

And Rodney – Rodney pulls away. John utters a protesting "Hey!" before he can stop himself, but Rodney just throws him a glance and squints at the fine print at the back of the foil.

"I'm deathly allergic to citrus, so unless you want me to die because some idiot somewhere figured that'd make an awesome addition to condoms, you better let me check," he explains.

John raises an eyebrow and drawls, "Citrus. In condoms."

It earns him a narrow-eyed glare. "Not in this one, but I'd like to see _you_ be careless if a small yellow fruit can kill you!"

John turns serious. "You're right, sorry."

Rodney sends him another suspicious glance, but opens the condom. Before he can put it on, John takes it away from him and smooths it down Rodney's cock himself before leaning in and kissing him, wrapping his arms around Rodney's shoulders. "I really am sorry," he says earnestly when he pulls away. Rodney grumbles something and ducks his head, but then he cups John's face again and leans in for another kiss.

Pressing closer to Rodney, John sinks down on his back again, pulling Rodney back on top of him. While tangling his tongue with Rodney's, John feels around on the bed for the tube of lube Rodney discarded earlier; finding it, he messily squeezes some onto his hand. Once again pulling one leg up and wrapping it around Rodney's hips to gain better access, he then brings his wet fingers to his ass and pushes his index finger back in, quickly followed by a second finger. Spit, like he used earlier, doesn't work well for stretching, but John has never been very tight down there, and besides he does like to use fingers and toys on himself regularly.

He's not quite ready yet for a third finger, but John really doesn't care when suddenly, Rodney's hand joins his between his legs and Rodney pushes one of his fingers in alongside John's. With a groan, John pushes himself up into Rodney's body, rubbing his dick against Rodney's sheathed one; Rodney makes a small, protesting noise when John accidentally bites his lower lip at the sensation. Apologetically, John soothes it with his tongue and small kisses and then figures he'd better put his mouth somewhere else before he does some actual damage.

More careful, trying not to let the sensation of Rodney between his legs, three fingers up his ass and a hard cock rubbing against his distract himself too much – which is difficult enough – John kisses his way down Rodney's jaw and scrapes his teeth down his neck, enjoying the appreciative noises Rodney makes.

"Tell me," Rodney gasps, moaning when John starts sucking on the sensitive skin in the hollow of his collarbone, "Tell me when you're ready."

John only hums in assent; Rodney's skin tastes great, of clean sweet and something more indefinably human underneath. Their three fingers are pushing in in tandem, and the initial burn at the stretch has mostly faded; it won't be long now.

"Shit," Rodney curses, "I want to fuck you so bad." Now that his mouth isn't occupied with John's anymore, it turns out he's a talker. Remembering how chatty he'd been when John had first noticed him, talking to that guy in the club, he's not surprised, and really, he enjoys it. He himself isn't much of a talker, he's a much better listener, and he'd be lying if he said it weren't insanely hot to hear Rodney talk about how much he wants him.

Still, he doesn't let it hurry him; he isn't much into pain afterwards, and he'd rather not his ass twinge painfully every time he sits or crouches down to try to comfort a frightened child when he gets back to work the day after tomorrow. And so he pushes in a fourth finger, just for a few thrusts to make sure he's really ready, before pulling them all out, taking Rodney's finger with him. "Okay, now," he gives permission, and Rodney moans happily and leans back, squeezing some lube onto his cock and then not wasting any time, guiding his cock to John's ass. When he's literally already pressing against his hole, he suddenly pauses and looks up.

"Okay, like this?", he asks, and John groans impatiently.

"Yes, like this, _now,_ " he orders and then gasps when Rodney pushes in with one smooth thrust.

It's been a while since John last had sex on the bottom; around a year, probably. The last two times he went out for sex he had topped, and really, right now he can't for the life of him remember why he waited so long. A silicon dick in his ass doesn't compare to a real one, to a real, warm body between his legs and hovering above him, moaning happily and gaining the same pleasure from John that John gets from him. Seriously, he has to do this more often.

Rodney gives him a moment to adjust after that first thrust, arms trembling with the strain as he holds himself above John, staring down at him with wide eyes and – he's holding his breath, which shouldn't be hot but totally is. Only when John shifts a little and slides his other leg up to wrap around his thigh does Rodney finally become mobile again, taking a deep breath and pulling out.

And then he thrusts in again, and, wow, Rodney really doesn't pussyfoot around; he's strong and he uses that strength to literally pound John's ass. John is moaning loudly within minutes, unable to do anything else but hold on with arms and legs and try not to pass out from the pleasure. The rhythm Rodney picks up is deceptively unhurried; somehow, Rodney manages to hit his prostate with every stroke in, and that combined with the hard pounding he's getting has John near incoherent.

Rodney himself is quiet now, staring down at John with a fixed attention that would embarrass John at any other time, but that right now is beyond arousing; the knowledge that he's the complete focus of Rodney's attention, that all Rodney is concentrating on is fucking John completely does him in. Far too soon for his taste, John is ready to come; he bites his lip and tries to hold it back, but Rodney must see it in his expression because the next moment, a hand is on his cock and two pulls later, John is throwing his head back and coming with a scream.

Rodney's thrusts slow down and become more shallow while John comes, and afterwards, when John lies there panting, staring up and unable to move a muscle to save his life, Rodney cups his face and gives him a soft kiss on the mouth, asking "May I?"

John blinks in confusion, trying to focus, and he only gets it when Rodney stills, but then he nods quickly and croaks, "Yeah, yeah, go on." It earns him a brilliant smile, and then Rodney takes hold of his legs, pulls them up again from where they slid down as John came down from his orgasm, and picks up his rhythm again.

He's less disciplined now, less intent, and John realizes that before, he had been concentrating less on his own pleasure and more on John's; now all he wants is to get off, and John collects himself enough to rhythmically squeeze his muscles around Rodney's cock, every time Rodney pushes in to help him along. Now Rodney makes noises; his eyes are squeezed shut as he emits moans and groans and draws hasty breaths, and pretty soon he thrusts in sharply and locks up, eyes flying open as he comes, loudly moaning John's name.

Catching Rodney as he inevitably collapses, John turns them so Rodney's weight won't push the air out of him. Rodney is trembling and panting in his arms, and John enjoys the feeling more than he would've expected, rubbing his hand up and down Rodney's sweaty back. They both flinch when Rodney's softening dick slides out of John's ass, and Rodney clumsily pats John's head, mumbling something unintelligible into John's shoulder. John feels unaccountably amused, and all he wants to do is cuddle up with Rodney and drift off. But, unless he wants to lose some chest hair tomorrow because he and Rodney are stuck together, John first has to take care of the semen smeared between them.

Rodney grunts when John shoves him off unceremoniously, then groans and gets with the program, taking the condom off his soft dick. John rolls off the bed and trudges over into the bathroom, enjoying the way his ass twinges with every step and wetting a washcloth to clean the come off his chest and belly. He's just rinsing the cloth when Rodney trudges in after him, bleary-eyed but smiling brilliantly at John in the mirror. John grins and turns around, cleaning the come smeared on Rodney's chest off him before giving him a kiss. Rodney hums happily and returns the kiss, then pulls away, asking "Are you staying? You can have the complementary toothbrush."

"How could I refuse that?", John jokes, and the two of them brush their teeth and then get back into bed, curling up under the covers together. John is out like a light.

The next morning, Rodney's alarm clock pulls them both unpleasantly out of sleep; Rodney groans and grumbles unhappily and John too mutters some unhappy curses. "Interview," Rodney mumbles unhappily and rolls out of bed; John sighs and sits up as well.

"If we hurry, we can have breakfast together and then I can drive you back to your motorcycle," Rodney offers; it sounds like a good idea – way better than having to take the bus, especially since John isn't familiar with the bus route in this area of the city.

They shower together, and then John puts on his clothes from the night before (except for the underwear, which he can't find) while Rodney pulls a new suit out of the wardrobe; it's a nice, light gray, plaid one that goes really well with Rodney's blue eyes. John watches unabashedly while Rodney puts the fine ensemble on; Rodney cleans up very nicely.

"What do you think?", Rodney asks, a little nervous as he knots his tie and peers at himself in the mirror.

"Hot," John says, smirking when Rodney blinks; he walks up behind him and straightens Rodney's tie, less because it's necessary (Rodney made a nice full Windsor; no need for John to re-knot, sadly) and more because it's an excuse to touch Rodney. Letting go of the tie, he runs his hands down Rodney's chest and belly, pushing the shirt tighter into his pants. It feels like Rodney isn't even breathing while John closes the top button of his suit jacket. "Don't close the other one," John murmurs into Rodney's ear, and Rodney nods hastily, a little wide-eyed.

Suppressing another smirk, John steps back. "A pink tie would go even better with this," he says. Right now, Rodney is wearing a charcoal one; in John's opinion, he would look even better if he went a little daring with the colors.

"Really? Pink?" Rodney's brows furrow as he glances into the mirror before turning around to face John. "Isn't that sort of... gay?"

John raises both eyebrows and Rodney flaps his hand and flushes red. "I didn't mean it like that."

"More color wouldn't do you any harm," John replies, amused. "Pink isn't dangerous, you know. I wasn't joking when I said you're hot," he hastens to explain, stepping closer again to peck Rodney on the lips, "But you don't have to be afraid to wear a bit more color."

"Hm, okay," Rodney says, looking a bit unsure.

John pats him on the chest. "Do you have a tie pin?"

"Oh, right!" Rodney hurries off into the bathroom and comes out, wearing a silver tie pin and putting on a silver wristwatch. "Good?"

John grins and puts both his thumbs up; Rodney returns the grin and for a moment they just stand around, grinning at each other. Luckily, Rodney's belly grumbles before the moment can get too awkward, and they quickly make their way to breakfast. While they eat, Rodney asks John questions about the city; he lives two hours via plane away, but he's considering moving here. Mostly because he has a nice job office, he hastens to explain, but well, his sister and niece live here, and that might be a factor also. John hides his grin in his coffee cup; despite Rodney's vocal assurances that he wouldn't just move here because of familial bonds, John gets the feeling that this is more of a factor than Rodney wants to admit. It's sort of cute, the way Rodney gets flustered when John hints at it.

After breakfast, they both get into Rodney's grass-green Beetle and Rodney drives him back to the club's parking lot, where John's motorcycle is standing around together with a couple of cars of people who probably drank too much. Or who got laid, like John.

John is sort of amazed that the whole morning after thing wasn't at all awkward; he doesn't really like to leave before the guy he spent the night with wakes up, but he isn't too heartbroken when they leave before he wakes up. Some people don't really deal well with the fact that they like to have sex without any strings and feel ashamed in the morning.

"So," Rodney says when he halts the car. "Uhm. It was nice?" It comes out like a question, and John suppresses a smile.

"It was great," he says and leans in, puts his hand on Rodney's chin and kisses him; Rodney once again cups his face and returns the kiss. Then John pulls away and gets out of the car.

Rodney stays there and watches while John mounts his bike and waits until John has driven off the parking lot before he leaves too.


End file.
